Mother's Love
by historylover
Summary: Tag to 5.22 "Over There, Part 1"


A/N: This has actually been on my mind for a while, so I thought I'd share, especially after the scenes with Peter and his mother. Aw…

Disclaimer: Don't own Fringe. Just a big fan.

**Mother's Love**

Elizabeth never remembered dates, just moments. Little memories frozen in time, never changing, always timeless. She preferred it that way. Dates complicated things way too much. She had given up celebrating her birthday after hitting 21 years old. It wasn't worth it anymore, because there were no milestones in years anymore. You just look forward to moments. And, she never really celebrated her wedding anniversary. Walter always forgot anyways.

Dates didn't matter.

However, two dates were stuck in her memory, no matter how many times she tried to forget them. The first date was Peter's birthday. The second date was the day he was kidnapped. He was pretty much ripped from her arms by her husband's doppelganger.

It took some time before Walter believed her. There were no such things as doppelgangers. Least of all someone who looked exactly like him, save for those sad, sad eyes. Walter pretty much tore through the entire world, trying to find Peter.

Elizabeth wasn't sure how long until Walter figured out that technically Peter wasn't kidnapped by a long lost twin brother but by someone from another universe. He reasoned that Peter was probably dead, based on what he was able to uncover about the other universe. It wasn't a very nice place, although he never really mentioned why.

In fact, he hardly ever talked to her anymore. Not that he was ever a warm, loving man before Peter's kidnapping. He was never around before then. Now, she generally saw him at military functions and at state dinners, if he showed up. Occasionally, he would come home, but it would usually be after Elizabeth had gone to bed, and left before she woke up in the morning.

Even though she was alone, she seldom felt lonely. She always had things to keep her occupied. However, there was always a subconscious part of her mind that thought of her son.

Although Walter was convinced he was dead, and made it his life's mission to destroy the other universe in retribution (and also because the other universe was apparently so much worse than theirs), Elizabeth always knew her son was alive. She could feel it.

In those first terrifying days (or was it months?) she worried that he was dead. Was he dead? Was he getting the medication that, while didn't completely take away his pain, would at least help him sleep? Walter's twin with the sad eyes said there was a cure. Was there? Did Peter respond to it?

Gradually, those questions were replaced by others, although, occasionally they crept into her dreams. When it was wintertime, she wondered if it were winter where Peter was at. She would see boys who would roughly be his age, playing, and the questions came hard. Was he having snowball fights with any siblings? Was he making a snowman with friends? In the summer, she wondered if he were out swimming. Playing baseball?

A few years later, she would see teenaged boys cruising around in sleek new double-decker cars (she didn't like the aerodynamic look of those cars. She preferred the toaster-looking ones. Those were what she was used to growing up), and she would wonder if Peter were driving where he was at. Was he cruising around with friends, getting his driver's license, going on dates?

Recently, she started seeing young couples and wonder if Peter were in a relationship. Was he already married? Did he have children? She knew that she'd be a wonderful grandmother. She was pretty sure Walter wouldn't take to being a grandfather too well.

Mostly, she wanted to know if he were loved. Did he have a family who could see how special he was? Did he have a father who would take him in his arms and hug him in order to comfort him? If so, he was better off being over there than over here. Did he have a mother who would cook him bacon? Who would tuck him in at night? Who would spend sleepless nights if he were sick or was out too late at night?

Was he loved?

She knew she would never see him again. She just would like to know if he were happy.

She didn't remember the date when Walter surprised her by being home when she got back from doing charity work. He only said eight words before walking out:

"Peter's alive. I'm going to get him back."

Elizabeth then started to ask herself new questions. It had been 24 years since she last saw him. How was the man different from the child she loved? Would he remember her at all? Will she recognize him? Will he understand how much she loved him? Would he still love her? Would she still love him, or did she just love the memory of the boy?

She never doubted that Walter would get him back. Whatever Walter set his mind to, he always succeeded. So, she was not surprised when she came home one day to find Walter in their bedroom, hooking up an IV to an unconscious man.

She was just surprised how bad the younger man looked.

"He had a rough crossing. He'll wake up soon. When he does, give him this," Walter said as he handed her a bound notebook and walked out of the door.

"Where are you going?" she called after him, unable to take her eyes off the sleeping man.

"I have things to do," he called back.

Elizabeth sat down on the bed beside the man. Tears filled her eyes. She ran her hand over his stubbled jaw. She studied him, trying to compare this man's face to the nearly faded image of her seven-year-old's face. She could see both her and Walter in his features.

Briefly, his eyes opened, and he looked her blankly, although she tried to convince herself that there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. His eyes. Her son's eyes… they never changed. She knew him by his eyes.

His eyes closed again.

Elizabeth took his hand and brushed a tear away from her cheek.

Although not all of her prayers and questions had been answered, her heart was overflowing with happiness.

After 24 years, she was holding her son's hand and watching over him while he slept.

"I love you so much, my son," she whispered.

End

A/N: I probably could have written more, but I'm turning in. I hope you enjoyed it. Good night, all.


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